“I have a scar.” She pointed to her lower abdomen, still covered by the white cotton. “I didn’t want you to freak out about it. It’s not big, but it’s . . . not pretty.”

His mind spun for a few seconds, trying to put together what she was telling him. Had Ephraim stabbed her? And then he remembered. The night she’d escaped, DJ had shot her in the abdomen. On top of whatever issues had caused her mother to smuggle her out, she’d had to fight a gunshot wound to survive.

But she had survived.

“Do you trust me?” Rafe whispered.

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

“Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss her, long enough to have her sighing. He pulled the cotton away from her body and relaxed. It wasn’t that bad a scar. To her, though, it had been the culmination of a catastrophic year. A catastrophic life. And the night she’d lost her mother.

Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the puckered skin. “You could tattoo it,” he suggested lightly, knowing that his reaction would be one she’d remember forever. “Maybe a small fox, peeking out of the bush?” He grazed the neatly trimmed line of her pubic hair.

She stared at him for a long, long moment, eyes wide with disbelief. Then laughed, a true belly laugh that made her breasts jiggle in the most tantalizing way. “You’re ridiculous.”

He bent to kiss the scar, relieved as hell. “So is any worry about this. I have plenty of scars, Mercy. Whenever I see yours, I’ll just remember that you’re still here. With me.”

She lifted her brows. “Planning to see it again, are you?”

He settled himself between her legs, bracing himself on his forearms so that she didn’t feel trapped. “Planning to make you so addicted to me that you won’t even remember it’s there.”

She brushed his hair away from his brow. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard. Kiss me, Rafe.”

So he did, putting everything he had into the kiss, groaning when she slid her arms around his neck again and kissed him back.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her throat. “Not gonna hurry. Not gonna rush.”

She did that swivel thing with her hips that made him lose his mind. “There’s a very good chance that we’ll be doing this again,” she said, already breathing hard.

He kissed her collarbone. “That’s not why I’m going to take my time.” He skimmed his lips down to her breast, licking her nipple. Making her gasp.

She let out a soft moan. “No?”

“No. Not because I’m afraid this is it. It’s because you deserve to be worshipped.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she cried out. He’d watched her that morning. He’d use everything he’d learned to give her this, their first time together, something she’d never forget. He moved to her other breast, sucking, then returning to kiss her mouth again, before repeating the routine until she writhed beneath him and his cock was leaking all over the sheets. He was shaking with the effort of holding back, but he wanted her mindless.